And not once I find myself dying, but standing,
if in front of mirror then invisible,
if among people then unnoticed,
if on a busy road then permeable,
if under the lights then transparent,
if loved then untouched,
if touched then without consent,
if there then not looking back,
if here then not saying it,
if awake then empty,
if asleep then waking up late,
and not once it felt any different than dying really.
YOU ARE READING
2023
PoetryPreviously titled as Once upon a poem. ~~~ "Dream" they said, I found myself insomniac. ~~~ 2023 is as its name suggests: an unsolicited collection of poems written during the lonely (or occasionally not so lonely) days of 2023.
